These are the Times
by GlitterTech
Summary: When America gets like this, only one person can help him out...


_**Originally posted June 30th, 2011 as Chapter 1**_

**Title**: These are the Times

**Author**: TechnoGlitter

**Rating**: Imma just go and make every Hetalia fanfic I post T, all the way through

**Characters/Pairings**: Canada and America, interpret it how you will

**Warning**: Self-Anxiety!America, probably some swearing, OOC

**Disclaimer**: I am not Hima-papa-san-tousan, therefore I do not own Hetalia.

**Notes**: It was only after I wrote this that I read a story exactly like it. ^^; Oh well, they were different characters.

Sometimes, Alfred hated the quiet. No, Alfred always hated the quiet. Contrary to popular belief, he was not loud all day every day. When he was alone, with just Tony and his whale friend, he was quite quiet. And it was just him, Tony and Whaley far more often than expected. There was nothing to talk to or about, so he didn't. These were the times America hated.

The quiet meant that there was nothing to distract him. Nothing to distract him meant he had to think. Thinking meant about his history. Or lack thereof. This is what Alfred hated. A nothing history. A stolen culture. He had nothing. He was nothing. Everyone else was so much more experienced and sure of themselves, and America was just damn lucky most of the time and suffering the consequences the rest and he always felt so bad that his children, the _American _people, had to suffer because of his bad decisions, and he had so many problems right now that he was drowning in them, and he was so jealous of those other nations because they had plans and pasts and would probably have a better future than him, and he bet their people weren't called lazy fatass Yankee bigots, and the only reason he was being a hero to all those other nations was because they might forget about him if he didn't do something and he couldn't handle that happening and- America stopped thinking. He took a shaky breath, and pulled out his cell phone with trembling hands.

Canada was there for him. Canada had told America to call him whenever he had one of his insecurity attacks. Despite being just about the same age as his brother, Canada understood America's crushing self-doubt, and always took time out of his day to help America with his problems. America swore that he would help Canada the way he helped him someday. America's heart tightened in his chest and he listened to the phone ring.

"Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up-" America murmured into the phone.

"Alfred, I already did."

"Oh. Hi, Matthew." Canada noticed that his brother's voice was small and meek, much like his own.

"Oh, Alfie…"

"I'll be fine soon, you know that. Just… please talk." Alfred shuddered as he spoke, cradling the phone against his cheek with both hands.

"Are you in your corner?" Alfred nodded the affirmative, wiggling in his spot between a wall and an old bookshelf.

Assuming that the other blonde had nodded, Canada continued. "Are you in position?" America pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Yes." The sound was still so quiet and un-American.

So Canada told America all about his day, his week, work, the boss, that street performer he saw steal a hat off a man's head then give it back, the little boy who had helped up a little girl who had fallen in the street, anything he could think of. America mostly listened, giggling or mumbling whenever he felt like it. Canada was running out of things to talk about after an hour.

"So Alfred, how was your day?"

"No! You have to keep talking Mattie!" Alfred whisper-shouted.

"I don't have anything to talk about anymore."

"Um… what are your opinions of beavers?" Knowing that he had hit a goldmine of emotions, he listened to his northern brother talk for forty-five minutes about the majestic and under-appreciated animal that the beaver was.

"Thank you Mattie."

"You know I'd do this anytime, Alfie. If it makes you feel better, of course I'd do it. Plus, you listen to me. And pay attention to me. For two hours. Not very many nations do that, and you make me feel special." Alfred blushed at the compliment.

"You make me feel special too. I love your voice. It sounds so nice and soft and it's not quite enough to break the silence but enough to keep the bad thoughts away," Alfred said, almost back to his old self.

There was a shout in the background, followed by the sound of something being thrown at Canada, and Canada ducking to miss it. "I'm sorry, I have to get back to work. Will you be alright now?"

Alfred smiled at his brother's kindness. He would stay with him even if it got his boss raging at him. "I feel great now, thanks. I'll make sure to help you like this someday."

Canada laughed. "You already have, but I'll hold you to that promise anyway. Bye!" Alfred bye'd back, then hung up. He smiled. These were the times that Alfred loved; time spent talking to his brother and feeling loved and cared for.

ALLA FINE

_**Blah blah blah, I was feeling depressed. You can totally ignore this. **I decided against going to a con that would've inconvenienced me, my parents, and my grandmother, despite Eric Vale being there and me really wanting him to say some Mochimerica/Mochicanada lines. I then found out that one of the voice actresses attending, Cassandra Hodges, died yesterday. She was only 28. It's sad that such a kind, friendly (from what I've seen) person with so much potential is gone from this world. She will be missed. Anyone who cares to know, she played the little ghost girl that Britain saw at Japan's house._


End file.
